The winds are picking up. I can’t see through the hair in my face. Every half-dead twig in my locust tree has been slapped off and tossed to the lawn as whirls and eddys buffet the branches. They might as well be the news headlines swirling across my computer screen.
I swipe the hair from my face, but I can’t do that with headlines. Day after day they mangle the air around me.
How to manage what the news is doing to my equililbrium? I need a strategy.
Retired or not, I am still a psychotherapist. So, I sit myself in a chair and ask how many voices inside are involved in this upset? Hmm. Three.
OK, I tell myself, let’s pull up three chairs. Use the chair you’re in for a Wise Self. Let her talk to each of the three.
Wise Self says to the first chair, “Hey Scaredy-cat. You’re 5 years old, aren’t you? What do you want to say?”
“The world is ending!!!!” I see her crouching, head down.
Wise Self: “Whew. That’s a lot. You’ve told me that before. Remember how we came through it every time? We’ll be okay again. I’ll stay with you.”
She turns to the next chair, “Hi Fury. You’re about 14 or 15, right? What’s your take?”
“It’s the grownups again. Politicians! Hah! Can’t trust any of them!” I see her arms crossed, nostrils flared.
Wise Self: “ I know what you mean. It looks bleak. We’ve both read a lot about history and how crazy times were followed by good times. When we expect the worst to happen, we’re always disappointed.”
To the last chair, she says, “Maudlin Moe. You’re the only grownup here. Why so morose?”
“There’s no way to fix this mess. All I can do is go lie down.” Which I see her do.
Wise Self: “How about we go on doing our own life. Let’s capture that wind in the sails on a boat. We’ll be passengers, and call it an adventure.”
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